


Bloody and Brittle, Breathe Deeply

by Ramabear (RyMagnatar)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29502135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/Ramabear
Summary: Takeshi is dating a florist. At least that is what he says. Everything is fine. There is no need for worry. He can take care of himself.Xanxus develops a nasty habit. It drives Squalo up the wall. He's not sick. At least he won't admit it. If he needed help, he'd ask for it.There are vices... and then there are Vices. You can't let them get out of control.
Relationships: Xanxus/Yamamoto Takeshi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36
Collections: KHR Rarepair Week VDay Mini-Event 2021





	1. Honesty and Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Kosaji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosaji/pseuds/Kosaji) in the [KHR_Rarepair_Week_VDay_Mini_Event_2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/KHR_Rarepair_Week_VDay_Mini_Event_2021) collection. 



> happy valentines. this is my first hanahaki. might be my only. we'll never know until it changes!

The first time Tsuna notices the flowers, they’re outside in the middle of summer and it’s less that he notices the flowers and wonders why they’re there and more that he sees the petals upon the bloody ground and thinks about mortality and futility and how little some things matter when it came right down to it. It’s just him and Takeshi out on this beautiful day; well, only the two of them  _ now.  _

The third person with them is in a couple of pieces, flesh cut open and bone split under the wickedly sharp Shigure Kintoki and the force with which Takeshi uses the weapon. Tsuna considers them with a frown and a sigh. If people were just a little less adamant that they could take advantage of him because of his youth and apparent inexperience…

Takeshi sheathes his weapon with a little snip of sound and straightens. He has no blood on himself, of course, but there is a flower petal on his upper chest like it had drifted out of the air and landed on him. Idly, Tsuna reached up and brushed it away. 

Takeshi blinked and looked over at him. His customary smile takes a moment to settle on his features. His gaze flicked to the soft purple and white petal as it fell to the ground to join the handful of other ones there. He said nothing.

“Let’s go,” Tsuna said as he turned his back on the body there. Usually, some clean-up was necessary. Concerns for a missing person were easier to sweep away than concerns for a murdered one. “We’re done here.”

Sometimes, however, a corpse laid bare was its own message. 

Takeshi grinned and turned with him, putting his hands in his pockets as he walked away with Tsuna. 

* * *

The second time Tsuna notices the flowers, it’s actually because Hayato notices them. 

He’s busy at his desk, flipping through a report that Takeshi’s brought him about some deals his guys have been observing happening on their turf and he hears Hayato scolding Takeshi about the flower petals.

“You’re always tracking in these damn things wherever you go,” Hayato said, “I thought you said you were going to take care of your little florist problem, Takeshi.”

“I did,” Takeshi said with a little laugh. “I don’t know where these are coming from,” he admitted.

Tsuna glanced up to see Hayato brushing the purple and white flowers off of Takeshi’s coat. Takeshi looks sheepish and is letting Hayato fuss. The fussing brings an amused smile to Tsuna’s lips. The two of them have always been like this: Hayato fussing, Takeshi telling him it was no big deal…

“What florist?” Tsuna asked because he hadn’t heard anything about a florist problem.

“Takeshi was seeing some fucking florist who kept giving him bouquets,” Hayato said in annoyance. He folded his arms across his chest and looked Takeshi up and down, frowning at him. “The damn flowers keep falling apart on him and leaving these fucking purple petals everywhere. What the hell even kind of bouquet is this?”

“I told you I took care of it,” Takeshi said with a smile, waving his hand dismissively. “This is from the last bouquet, I guess. I don’t know.”

“They seem fresh,” Tsuna said, looking down at the petals on the floor. There are some white purple ones and, now that he looks a little closer, some smaller lavender purple ones. In fact, he thought those might actually be lavender petals. They looked strange, he thought, he’d never really seen lavender petals without the stems they were attached to. 

“They’re a hazard,” Hayato said, “If you leave petals where you go then you might leave them behind on a job we’re  _ trying to be subtle on.  _ If someone knows you leave these fucking things everywhere then they’ll know it was you!”

“Or someone framing him,” Tsuna interjected. “But Hayato is right, Takeshi. You need to be more careful about leaving traces behind that can be tracked to you. Would you really take care of the flower problem? I don’t think dating the florist is the problem, just the bouquets.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Takeshi said. 

And Tsuna believed him.

* * *

The third time Tsuna noticed the flowers was because Reborn brought him the problem. 

Or rather, Reborn dragged him to Takeshi under the guise of Super Important Emergency Boss Training Time or something. It was four in the morning. Tsuna didn’t really care what Reborn was calling it. He only cared that he was standing in Reborn’s apartment, wearing hastily thrown on clothing, staring down at Takeshi who sat on the couch in front of him with one hand covering his mouth and the other holding a handful of bloody violets. At least, Tsuna thinks they’re violets. He doesn’t pay a lot of attention to flowers. He never has. That was someone else’s job. 

But he can recognize lavender and he knows that on the coffee table are a few sprigs of those, bloodied just like the violets. And he can tell that this is a problem, a capital P Problem, in fact, because if it was anything less than that then Reborn would have taken care of it for him.

The first thing Takeshi said to him was, “Reborn shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“I think he should have,” Tsuna said. Reborn said nothing, of course. He was looming from the armchair, drinking coffee and watching them with dark eyes. He’d done all he’d determined he was responsible for and now was just going to watch this all unfold however it did.

“It’s not a problem,” Takeshi lied to him.

Tsuna’s eyes narrowed. “You’re coughing up whole damn flowers, Takeshi. If it wasn’t a problem, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I’m handling it,” Takeshi said. Another lie.

“Yes,” Tsuna said icily, “You’re handling it quite well. You’ve got one handful of violets and another hand for the lavender. Which handful do you drop so you can wield your sword?”

Takeshi lifted his gaze up from the ground and glared at Tsuna. His gaze was hard but Tsuna withstood it. He could withstand anything for the sake of his friends. Even their hatred of him. 

Takeshi opened his mouth to speak but instead he started to cough and cough. Out came another violet, the petals strangely undamaged, the blood splattering their white edges. He spat out a petal and Tsuna saw Reborn sigh and shift his legs, uncrossing and crossing them again. The rug would have to be replaced, he knew, and Reborn would make him get a nice replacement, too.

“You have two options,” Tsuna said quietly. Takeshi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was still glaring.

“Option one,” Tsuna said, “You can get the surgery and cut out the flowers at the root. Option two, you can just confess your feelings to whoever it is and get it over with. Let them accept you or reject you, Takeshi. Your health comes first.”

Takeshi looked away. 

“If it’s so impossible to tell them, then get the surgery,” Tsuna said. “If you’re not going to act on it, then why are you making yourself suffer?”

Takeshi hunched his shoulders. This time, he glanced towards Reborn.

Tsuna sighed, “You know as well as I do that he’s not going anywhere. You also know he’s not going to talk about this with anyone, except maybe Hayato. I will also be talking to Hayato about it too, by the way. You’re not going to get out from under this, Takeshi.”

Finally, Takeshi played his last card. He sat up a little and smiled sheepishly, “I didn’t think it would get this bad, Tsuna. I guess it’s true what they say though, hm? Absence does make the heart grow fonder! Haha!” 

Tsuna stared at him. He took a step forward so he could more easily go down to one knee in front of his friend. Takeshi’s smile slipped off his face and went somewhere else as he looked somberly at Tsuna. 

“I don’t care who it is,” Tsuna said, “If you can’t tell me, that’s fine too. If you want the surgery, then we’ll find you the best one. If you want to take a few weeks and go to this person and talk to them, to try and convince them to be with you? Fine. You have it. Take all the time you need.” He reached out and took Takeshi’s hand in both of his own. 

“What matters the most to me, what has always mattered the most to me, is the health and happiness of all my friends. Keeping this all bottled up inside of yourself is  _ killing you.  _ Please,  _ please,  _ do something for it, Takeshi. Surgery or confession, I don’t care which. Just do  _ something,  _ please. I am begging you as your friend.  _ Please.” _

Takeshi closed his eyes. He held perfectly still. The room was as quiet as he was, filled only with the coppery tang of blood and the sweet scent of fresh lavender.

“I need to go to the Varia,” Takeshi finally said, opening his eyes. His gaze was fixed on the lavender on the table. “It should only take a week, if that.”

Tsuna nodded. “I’ll get you transport there immediately--”

“I’ll get there myself,” Takeshi said. “I just need the time.”

“You have it,” Tsuna said. “You have all the time you need.”

Takeshi closed his eyes again. 


	2. Bloody Pride

Squalo knew Xanxus had some bad habits, but he had to admit, this new one was the most disgusting one he’d picked up yet. Squalo had never been very fond of spitters. He’d known plenty of people who spat for any number of reasons and he’d always found it distasteful. There were just some things you didn’t do in front of people. Hawking and spitting were definitely one of them.

And so, when Xanxus picked up a spitting habit, Squalo lasted about three spits before he whirled on his Boss, in the middle of an otherwise casual meeting about following up on some threat or another, and snarled at him, “Xanxus, if you spit one more time in front of me, I am going to stab you.”

Xanxus had slowly lifted his head from the pictures he was examining and stared at him. “What was that?”

“You keep fucking spitting and it’s nasty. Why are you doing it? Are you sick? Do you need something for some phlegm or something?” Squalo asked. He’d make tea with honey his own damn self if it stopped Xanxus from spitting. 

“I’m not sick,” Xanxus snarled. “It’s just spitting. Get the fuck over yourself.”

“It’s disgusting,” Squalo insisted. “If it’s _just spitting,_ then do it when I’m not around, all right?”

Their gazes locked and Squalo lifted his chin to show just how stubborn he was planning on being. He was _not_ going to back down on this. Xanxus was not going to spit in front of him. Not now. Not ever. 

Xanxus’s glare was broken by a cough that seemed to force its way through him. He turned his head away and reached for a tissue from the box he kept on his desk. Squalo leaned back, a thread of worry winding through him. Xanxus hadn’t always kept tissues on his desk. That was definitely a new development. Was the coughing and spitting all related?

Xanxus wiped his mouth with the tissue and then tossed it immediately into the trash beneath his desk. “Fucking fine,” he rasped, “No more spitting in front of you. Can we fucking move on with this already or not? I want your opinion here, Squalo.”

Momentarily appeased, and tucking away his concern to deal with later, Squalo got back to work. 

He’d have some tea sent up to Xanxus later. Something to soothe the throat. Hopefully, that would help.

* * *

Squalo was headed from the dining hall when Lussuria caught up to him in the hallway. “Squalo,” he said, “Could I have a word with you?”

Squalo stopped and sighed. “What about?” 

“The boss,” Lussuria said. He wasn’t smiling.

Squalo eyed him silently for a moment and then nodded. Lussuria turned and together they walked to one of the myriads of small rooms that filled the castle-like structure of the Varia base. Once inside, Squalo took a seat on the available couch, leaning back into the leather and crossing his legs. Lussuria, on the other hand, anxiously paced back and forth.

“What is it?” Squalo asked. He hoped it wasn’t a report of general discontent, or else he’d gotten worried for nothing. He also hoped it wasn’t a rumor of mutinous behavior either. He did not have the time to crush a coup right now.

“Is Xanxus sick?” Lussuria finally asked. He stood still now, gesturing rapidly with both hands, and continued speaking without letting Squalo answer, “I ask you because I asked him and he said he was fine. But he is _not_ fine, Squalo. He has been coughing for several weeks if not several months. And not little coughs like a bit of dust got in his throat or he swallowed something wrong. These are deep chest coughs. And he’s either spitting something out or swallowing it every time. So I ask you again, is Xanxus sick? And if he is, why has he not come to me for healing?”

Squalo opened his mouth to immediately claim that Xanxus was not, in fact, sick, and that he hadn’t noticed any coughing. He stopped himself before he said the words, though. He frowned and rubbed at his chin. “He _has_ been coughing a lot more recently,” he said. “I wasn’t sure he was coughing something up, though.”

“He definitely has been,” Lussuria insisted. “I noticed the coughing first, but the spitting is honestly what worries me more. That needs treatment. You see, when you have a proper cold and get a build-up of phlegm, if you spit it out as you cough it out, you tend to recover faster because you’re expelling the disease from your body.

“But he’s spitting and he’s still coughing. Which means his body is still generating phlegm. Which is a problem, Squalo, and he needs medical attention.”

Squalo grimaced in disgust. He did _not_ want to have to talk to Xanxus about his phlegm habits. “And when you talked to him he said what exactly?”

“That he was fine,” Lussuria said, _“Fine._ I asked him if he realized how much he was coughing and he insisted he was coughing a normal amount and that he had no problems that needed addressing. I told him I could take a look at his lungs just in case and he damn near about bit my head off! So not only is he sick but he’s _definitely_ hiding it.”

Squalo rubbed his temple with one hand. “Of course he’s hiding it. He hides everything until the last possible second. If he swallowed his pride even once he’d actually see that he can’t do everything himself, _especially_ diagnose his own illness. He’s got no medical training.”

“And the fact that he’s resisting any examination only shows that he knows he’s sick and he needs help,” Lussuria said, “I figured if he’d seen someone already, he would’ve said something about it.” He walked over and dropped himself onto the other end of the couch, sighing heavily and covering his face with one hand. “I just don’t know what to do, Squalo. If he’s sick and hiding it, it could get much worse before it gets better!”

Squalo rubbed his temple even harder. He knew what had to be done. “I’ll talk to him,” he said. 

“You have to get him to admit to what’s going on,” Lussuria said, “Don’t let him back out or run away.”

Squalo snorted. He got to his feet. “He won’t run away,” he said, “He’ll have no choice once I get my sword in him.”

“Squalo, don’t just attack him!” Lussuria said, “You could make it worse!”

“The only way he’s going to admit to having a problem is if we force him to reveal that it is a problem. If his lungs are fucked up then he can’t keep up a fight for as long as he should be able to which means that when he taps out I can grind it in his face that he’s weaker than he used to be and he needs to fess up to why!”

Lussuria looked worried but thoughtful. “I suppose that could work…”

“It will,” Squalo said. “And I’m going to go do it now before he can catch wind of this and fuck off and hide from me again.” He flung open the door and stormed out. Lussuria hurried after him. 

“Wait, Squalo, I should probably be there just in case something bad _does_ happen,” called after Squalo, jogging to catch up and then matching Squalo’s long, easy stride down the hallway.

“Fine,” Squalo said. “Let’s go find the bastard and beat some sense into him.”

* * *

When Squalo realized what was happening, what was _really_ happening, it was far too late to pivot and try to cover it all up.

It had been easy to goad Xanxus into a fight. He seemed to be itching for one ever since he’d read through some briefings that morning. It had been easy to taunt him into making it a test of endurance, calling him a tired old man who spent more time behind a desk than on the field nowadays. 

It had been a simple, solid plan and Squalo had executed it perfectly.

And now Xanxus stood before him, a little cut up, sure, but the injury he truly suffered was to his pride and to his image. 

He breathed heavily, much more heavily than he should be and they both knew it. There was blood on his lips, and while that alone would have proved Squalo’s point that he was ill and needed treatment, what really cemented that truth was what Xanxus had started to spit out onto the ground.

Squalo had thought he was doing it to fuck with him because Xanxus _would_ do that, but no.

Once he saw what it was he spat, really saw it, Squalo knew the truth. No. No, it wasn’t about him at all. 

God, at least Squalo hoped not.

Xanxus dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. His ragged breathing had evened out again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, readying himself for another round of fighting but Squalo did not raise his sword.

He couldn’t. He’d found out what he wanted to know and the price of it had been a field of bloody flower petals and the knowledge that yes, Xanxus was suffering and no, there wasn’t anything he or anyone here could do about it.

Xanxus leveled his gun at Squalo, “Giving up already?” 

Squalo tensed but then slowly nodded. “I surrender.”

Xanxus held his gun up a moment or two longer before lowering it down to his side again. He coughed, turned his head, and spat. Blood and flower petals hit the ground. 

_Fuck._ How had Squalo not even realized it? How had Xanxus hidden it so well?

“Xanxus,” Squalo sheathed his weapon and started across the field towards him. He’d apologize for pushing this fight, that was the first thing he would do, and then he’d grab him by the shoulders and shake him because what in the hell was he even doing? “Xanxus, what the hell?”

Xanxus checked his guns over before holstering them. He looked up at Squalo. There was blood in the cracks of his lips. “What do you mean what the hell?”

Squalo gestured to the field, “What the fuck is this?”

Xanxus looked down. Then he looked up at him and met his gaze. His eyes were strangely flat. His voice was cool. The anger that Squalo expected simply wasn’t there. “Well, that looks like an awful lot like none of your fucking business.”

Lussuria was headed towards them too, moving quickly, concern all over his face. Squalo gave Xanxus a sharp look, “Don’t fucking play games with me. What the shit is going on with you? Who is it? Why haven’t you told them yet? How long are you planning on ruining your body for?”

Xanxus lifted his chin slightly and said, “I said it’s none of your fucking business, Squalo.”

“Yes it is my fucking business,” Squalo seethed, “It’s absolutely my fucking business! Your health is my business and right now you’re not operating at one hundred percent! What if something happens to you? What am I supposed to do then?”

Something flicked across Xanxus’s amber gaze. A smile split his face, one that was so familiar but so out of place on his mouth that Squalo found himself silenced by the image of it. “Well,” Xanxus drawled, “I imagine you’d be pretty busy running the Varia, Squalo. It’s not easy and no one will thank you for it, but you’ll be good at it.”

Squalo opened his mouth but nothing came out. He shut his mouth again. Lussuria just reached his side as Xanxus turned his back on them both and walked away. 

“Xanxus,” Lussuria reached for him but Squalo grabbed his arm and held him back. His grip was tight, probably too tight, though Lussuria didn’t complain. He only looked at Squalo and asked, “Why are you stopping me?”

Squalo shook his head. He couldn’t put it into words but that smile. He’d seen that smile before. Not on Xanxus’s face, but somewhere else. On someone else. It was a cold smile. A killer’s smile. 

Yamamoto had given him that smile the last time they spoke, when he’d formally broken ties to Squalo, as if he could simply cut apart everything they had been to each other just by saying it was done and then never showing up at the Varia estate again.

He knew where Yamamoto had learned to smile like that. Where the hell had Xanxus?

* * *

Belphegor leaned against the doorframe, watching his boss wash blood and flower petals out from the inside of his mouth. He flipped a knife up and down idly, mostly to keep his hand busy, as he waited for the man to acknowledge his presence.

Xanxus did so with a grunt and a glare through the mirror. 

Belphegor grinned, “I know a doctor who can help you with that little petal problem,” he said, “If you’re interested in that sort of thing.”

Slowly, Xanxus straightened. He turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Love is such a curse,” Belphegor said with a shrug. “Best to cut it out at the root and not let it infect all of your lungs before it’s too late. Besides, you’d break poor Squalo’s heart if he walked in on you and found you in your bed with flowers bursting from your chest. He might even grow some of his own for you.”

Xanxus’s face flitted through a mixture of emotions before it settled on hard and angry. Belphegor felt a shiver run down his spine as Xanxus approached him, but he held his place. 

“Get me the information,” Xanxus said. 

“I knew you’d understand,” Belphegor laughed softly, and with a flick of his wrist the knife he held turned into a paper card. He held it up between his first two fingers. “Here you go, Boss.”

Xanxus took the paper and looked at it. Then he glared at Belphegor and said, “Go away.”

Belphegor left, twirling a knife and feeling quite light indeed. Boss would be back to his scary, dangerous self in no time at all and the status quo would be back as it should be.


	3. Excavation

“Are you sure about this?” Squalo asked. He mostly questioned Xanxus because it was his job to question Xanxus. It wasn’t doubt that made him ask, it was that he wanted, no, _needed_ them both to be absolutely sure that this was what Xanxus wanted. 

After all, there was no undoing this.

Xanxus gave him an irritated look as he shuffled a stack of papers together. “Of course I’m sure. What other option do I have?”

Squalo hesitated. _Well, you could go and talk to them, whoever they are._ The words sat on his tongue and didn’t leave him, though. He knew that what Xanxus felt was more than pining. Pining alone didn’t make flowers bloom in your chest. 

Xanxus shook his head as he put those papers aside and looked over his desk one more time. “I think I’ve handled everything necessary for now. You should be able to manage well enough while I’m away.”

Squalo nodded. “Of course, Xanxus. I’ll take care of everything.” He watched as Xanxus just looked down at his desk, thinking his thoughts and not sharing them. He frowned to himself. Xanxus had grown more distant over the last few years. Was this secret love of his the reason for that? Would Xanxus be back to his old self once the surgery was over?

There was a knock at the door. In irritation, Squalo half-turned and muttered, “Who is bothering us right now?”

Xanxus sighed. Squalo headed towards the door and pulled it open. One of the staff who ran messages and did cleaning in the building stood there. The man was apologetic as he bowed his head slightly and said, “There’s a guest at the doors, here to see the boss.”

“Who is it?” Squalo demanded. 

“He said his name is Yamamoto Takeshi,” the man said, “We have that name blacklisted currently, under your orders, sir. So we have not let him in at all.”

“Takeshi?” Squalo blinked. What the hell was he doing here? And why now? “Has he brought anything? Does he have a message or something?”

“No, sir,” the man said, “He came with nothing but his weapon on his back and would not remove it under instruction, either.”

Squalo snorted. Of course he hadn’t. “Tell him I’m busy and to fuck off. If he wants to come here and apologize to me for fucking off after all I did for him, he’s going to have to pull out all the fucking stops. Showing up empty-handed-”

“Send him up,” Xanxus said suddenly, speaking over Squalo. 

Starting with surprise, Squalo looked over his shoulder at Xanxus. His eyes were hard. His expression grim. 

“Xanxus,” Squalo said with a sigh, “You don’t need to deal with him before you go. It’s _Takeshi._ I know how to deal with him.” He headed over to Xanxus and went to pick up the overnight bag he’d packed up. “You need to get in the car and go to the hospital-”

“Bring me Yamamoto,” Xanxus said. He wasn’t even looking at Squalo, but at the servant at the door. “Let him carry his sword.” The man nodded and left to go do as Xanxus instructed.

“Xanxus,” Squalo rubbed his temple. Why did Xanxus have to be so irritating sometimes? “You don’t have time for this right now. You’re going to be late.”

“They can’t start without me there,” Xanxus said, “Go stand outside the door and let him in.”

“What?” Squalo said, “Xanxus, he’s here to speak with _me.”_

“He isn’t,” Xanxus said, “Didn’t you listen? Yamamoto came to speak with the boss. That’s me. Now go out there and let him in when he’s here, all right?” 

Annoyed, Squalo said, “What the fuck has gotten into you? Xanxus, this is a fucking waste of time. If he’s here to speak to you then clearly he has a message from his shitty boss and that means he wants something from the Varia, obviously. And since you’re going to be out of commission recovering from your surgery, whatever that brat asks for will have to be dealt with by me! You don’t need to get yourself wrapped up in this when you have something more important to do!”

Xanxus’s upper lip curled in a sneer. “I know you think you know what the fuck is going on, Squalo, but you don’t. I’ll deal with him. Alone. I want you out of here.”

“Xanxus,” Squalo started but Xanxus interrupted him with an angry thump of his fist on his desk.

“Do not make me throw you out myself,” Xanxus snarled. “Just fucking do as I tell you.”

The creak of the door filled that quiet space after Xanxus’s words and Squalo jerked around to look at the doorway.

Takeshi stood there. He wore a black suit, with no tie, and the case for his weapon slung across his back. He had his hands in his pockets and his dark eyes were on Xanxus. 

“Leave, Squalo,” Xanxus commanded him. Squalo was halfway to the door before his brain caught up with his feet. 

When he reached the door, Squalo slowed to a stop and glared at Takeshi. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here or what you want right now,” he said threateningly, “But you and I are going to talk later about what you fucking did.”

Takeshi smiled blandly at him. “Sure,” he said, “If I’m still around.” 

“Takeshi,” Squalo leaned in but Xanxus cut him off again. 

“That’s enough,” Xanxus said. “Watch the door, Squalo.”

Squalo spat a curse at Takeshi and at Xanxus, for good measure, and then stepped into the hallway. Takeshi went into the room and shut the door behind himself. A moment after the latch caught, Squalo heard the lock click into place.

Squalo stared at the wood, confused and hurt and angry because of it. What was Takeshi here about? If it was just Vongola business, why couldn’t he hear about it too? Why was Takeshi here for Xanxus and not for him? 

What the hell was going on?

* * *

The last time that Xanxus had seen Takeshi, he had been half awake, sprawled on a bed with nothing covering himself but a blanket across one leg and a serious case of bed hair. It had been so early in the morning that the sun hadn’t even risen yet and the only light came from the bathroom doorway. 

It had been enough light to see the marks he’d given Takeshi. It had been enough light to see that his dark eyes were open and watching Xanxus from a blank face as Xanxus stood over him. It had been enough light to see the bloody clothes on the floor, not from their own wounds but from what they’d done to other people.

Xanxus had always been vicious. He had always been eager to fight and ready to kill. He had always enjoyed the adrenaline that came with violence and managing to survive yet another fight.

But the way he’d felt after taking on this job with Takeshi --a favor for Tsuna because Reborn had been busy and Takeshi needed a hand-- had been different. Wildly, disproportionally different.

There was killing and then there was slaughtering.

There was a desire to kill quickly and efficiently and then there was killing in order to satiate bloodlust.

There was having a quick fuck because of the adrenaline of a fight and there was spending hours fucking while the blood dried and bodies went cold in the other room. 

“You need to go,” Xanxus had said to Takeshi. “I’ll take care of the clean-up.” 

They were the last words he’d said to him that morning, after so many more spoken the night before. 

Takeshi hadn’t said anything. He’d just given Xanxus a cutting smile, one that said he knew and he understood and he accepted this, and then he’d dressed in wrinkled, bloody clothing, took his sword and left.

Xanxus had done similarly, except when he left he torched the place. 

Scorched earth wasn’t generally his policy, but the temptation to keep that place, to return to it, to invite Takeshi back there to do what they had done again and again…

Xanxus knew himself. He knew his vices. He understood what temptation did to a man. And he would not be a slave to his own body, no matter how much it wanted what it wanted.

Not even if it grew flowers within his lungs, forcing him to confront these buried things again and again with every bloody mouth full of pink petals. He would not bend. He would not surrender.

But Xanxus had forgotten that what did not bend broke instead.

And now Takeshi was here, in front of him, clean and dressed, smiling vaguely as he meandered across the room like he’d never been in such a room before and he had plenty of time to get where he was going. Every step he took wound Xanxus tighter and tighter like a bowstring being drawn back. He felt like he was about to snap by the time Takeshi stood in front of him, not quite close enough to touch but definitely within range of his sword.

“Xanxus,” Takeshi said with a smile.

“What do you want?” Xanxus asked. 

“To be able to breathe easily again,” Takeshi said, “What do you want?”

Xanxus swallowed reflexively. He tasted blood. “Sounds like you can breathe just fine,” he said, “But I’m not a doctor so you should probably get a second opinion.”

Takeshi coughed. Xanxus flinched because he knew the sound of that cough. Takeshi covered his mouth with one hand, coughing a few times before he finally stopped. However, when he lowered his hand, Xanxus saw more than blood and more than petals. Takeshi had coughed up whole flowers. Violets, he thought, with dark purple and bright white petals, though stained with splatters of blood. 

Xanxus found it difficult to breathe, and not just because of the blossoms within his own lungs. He stared at Takeshi’s hand and then jerked his gaze up to his face. “You can’t be serious,” he whispered.

“Would it be better if I was joking?” Takeshi asked. 

Xanxus shook his head. He reached for the box of tissues on his desk and held them out to Takeshi wordlessly.

Takeshi took one and with a casual air that said more about how long he’d been dealing with this and how commonplace it was to him than if he had told Xanxus how long it had been going on, he cleaned up his hand and balled up the tissue. “You have a trash can?”

“Under the desk,” Xanxus said. Then he remembered that it was full of similarly bloody tissues and instead of letting Takeshi step around his desk to throw it away, he held out his hand, “I’ll throw it away for you.”

Takeshi smiled and handed him the tissue, “How kind of you, Xanxus.” 

Xanxus stepped around to the back of his desk and threw away the tissue. Then he took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Looking back up Takeshi he asked, “Who are those flowers for?”

“Who do you think?” Takeshi asked him.

Xanxus frowned at him, “I don’t know your life. I don’t know who is close to you. Those flowers could be for anyone. Hell, they could be for Squalo for all I know.” The words are bitter on his tongue but Xanxus doesn’t retract them. He just glared at Takeshi. 

“I don’t think so,” Takeshi said simply. 

Agitated, Xanxus said, “Well they’re not for me if that’s what you believe. There’s no fucking way--”

“There is no one else but you,” Takeshi declared. His voice was not loud but it was unyielding and it made Xanxus flinch. His anger rose at that, furious with himself that Takeshi could make him react this way. No one _made_ him do anything.

“Bullshit,” Xanxus said.

“There is no one else but you and there has never been anyone else but you,” Takeshi said. “Before you, I didn’t want anyone at all. I was content with my work and my friends and my life. And then you came--”

“You can’t blame me for this,” Xanxus said with an angry gesture towards Takeshi, “You can’t blame me for what’s happened to you. That’s _your_ problem, not mine.”

“And then you came and you stuck your hand in my chest and you tore out a part of me,” Takeshi continued on as if Xanxus hadn’t said a word, “And in its place you put this garden. I spit out the flowers every day, but eventually, there will be too many roots and too much green and I will die, Xanxus.”

Xanxus clenched his teeth together and clamped down on the pained sound that tried to escape his throat. 

Takeshi smiled. “But you’re right. I can’t blame you. I don’t blame you. After all, I didn’t stop you from leaving. I didn’t even try.” 

Takeshi coughed again. It was worse this time and he stepped forward to brace one hand on the corner of the desk. Xanxus pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. His own lungs strained but he refused to cough. He would not show his weakness to Takeshi. 

This time Takeshi pulled lavender from his mouth. He looked at the sprigs on the tissue and sighed. He gently folded the tissue paper over the flowers and said quietly, “I came here because I’d rather not have my chest cut open. I hoped that if I told you how I felt and showed you these flowers then maybe I could rid myself of them. It’s as if my body and my mind are at war, Xanxus, and while I want you, I know that I can’t have you and you can’t have me.”

Takeshi set the wrapped piece of lavender on Xanxus’s desk, “I’m Tsuna’s Rain. I’m Tsuna’s left hand. I haven’t been free to do as I like since I was a kid and I joined this business. And while I know that we could be incredible together, I remember how out of control it was as well.” He looked to the side and shook his head. “And people like us can’t get out of control.”

“No,” Xanxus said quietly, “We can’t.”

Takeshi smiled. 

Xanxus took a careful breath. He could feel a scratch at the back of his throat. He wanted to cough but he could not. “You should leave,” he said quietly. 

“I know,” Takeshi said. But he didn’t move.

Xanxus tried again, “I have an appointment to go to. You need to leave.”

“I will,” Takeshi said. He did take a step, but it was towards Xanxus instead of away. “I just- If there was just one more thing I could do. Then I’ll go and you won’t have to see me again if you don’t want to.”

“What?” Xanxus grated out.

“One last kiss,” Takeshi said, “I wanted to kiss you goodbye before, but I didn’t dare.” He flashed a smile, “I didn’t want to upset you more than you were already.”

Xanxus held his breath. He bit his tongue, hard, because he had no idea which words were going to come out of his mouth. Takeshi gave him a hopeful look, head tilted to the side and slightly downcast so that he was looking up through his lashes at Xanxus. 

He wanted to punch him for that look. He wanted to grab him by the throat and throttle him for daring to come here. He wanted to hold him down and kiss him until he was dizzy. He wanted to rip his clothes off of him and put his sturdy desk to good use. 

He wanted to go out and kill someone with him, to hold Takeshi with bloody fingers, to kiss and fuck while high on adrenaline and power and a bloodlust that made him ignore what little common decency he’d bothered to keep. 

“Fine,” Xanxus finally said. One last kiss couldn’t hurt.

Well, not more than he already did.

Takeshi circled around the desk, eyes fixed on Xanxus. Xanxus turned to face him. His hands opened and closed at his sides restlessly. 

Once in front of him, Takeshi stopped. He reached up and cupped Xanxus’s cheek. Then he gently pulled him down and kissed him. Xanxus closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss. It felt like an electric surge pulled through him, making him sway on his feet and have to grab Takeshi by the shoulder for stability.

Takeshi pulled back slowly. He licked his lips. Xanxus resisted the urge to kiss him a second time, but only just. 

Xanxus felt the swelling need to cough suddenly. He abruptly let go of Takeshi and turned, coughing violently and unable to stop himself. Takeshi held onto him, supported him, as the coughing fit made his legs feel weak. For the first time, Xanxus felt something more substantial than flower petals or small, tight flower buds rise through his throat. He hacked and gasped and coughed and then spat.

The half bloomed clump of hydrangea landed with a thump on the wooden desk. Xanxus panted, staring at it. Takeshi’s hand was still on his shoulder. His fingers dug in tight. 

“What…?” Takeshi’s voice was soft, “Xanxus? What is this?”

Xanxus dragged his hand over his mouth. He swallowed the leftover blood. He reached for the flower and crushed it in his grip. “It’s nothing,” he said roughly. He moved to throw away the flower but Takeshi grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand back. 

“You just coughed this up,” Takeshi said, “What the hell is this? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Xanxus snarled, “Just like it’s not any of mine what you’re coughing up. You already said everything that needed to be said. It doesn’t matter what we want because we can’t be together.”

“You were just going to let me leave without telling me you have these too?” Takeshi asked. He shook Xanxus’s arm. 

Xanxus twisted his arm and pulled it free from Takeshi’s grip. He took a step back from him. “What else am I supposed to do? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix anything.”

“Xanxus-”

“You said it yourself,” Xanxus growled at him, “You feel out of control with me. You do the same thing to me. The only thing we can do is cut each other out of our lives. You know I’m right, Takeshi. You know there’s nothing else we can do.”

Takeshi closed the distance between them. “We could try,” he said, “It’s been a few years, it might not feel so intense.”

Xanxus snorted. 

“We can limit ourselves,” Takeshi said, “We can find a way to make it work.”

“It won’t.”

“But we could at least try,” Takeshi pleaded. He was crowding Xanxus now, not quite touching but so close that Xanxus could smell the lavender on his breath. Xanxus held his ground because he wasn’t about to be backed up against a wall by anyone, especially not in his own office. 

Xanxus shook his head, but before he could speak another cough tore its way through him. More petals and stems escaped him and he spat them into the trash can this time, as Takeshi held it for him. Again it was full flowers, clusters of them, this time fully blooming. 

Xanxus stared into the bin, full of flowers and blood and tissues, and felt a fine tremor run through his body. Takeshi had one hand on his back, running a soothing circle over his shoulder blades. Xanxus closed his eyes.

He felt something inside of himself break. Nothing physical, no, but from deep inside of his body something snapped perfectly in half. He let out a gasp and hung his head. Takeshi’s hand was warm and firm and comforting all at once. The temptation to change his mind, to toss caution aside, to give in to his wants and desires was too great to ignore any longer.

Xanxus had always been prone to vice and he had always managed it well enough. If Takeshi was just another vice, he could learn to manage him as well. 

Slowly, Xanxus straightened. Takeshi’s hand moved from his back to the side of his neck. Xanxus reached up and put his hand over Takeshi’s, to keep him from pulling away.

“I’m sick of spitting up flowers,” Xanxus whispered. “And I’m sick of tasting my own blood. If you think we can do this without losing ourselves, if you’re willing to try so we don’t just carve each other up into little pieces, then fine. We’ll try, Takeshi. We’ll try.”

Takeshi’s smile reached his eyes, making them sparkle and making Xanxus realize that most of Takeshi’s smiles were for his mouth alone. He leaned in, then hesitated. 

Xanxus didn’t hesitate, though. He closed that distance and kissed Takeshi, reaching up to hold his face in his hands. He kissed him deeply, tasting Takeshi’s blood and that herbal, green taste of lavender and violets. 

When he pulled back from the kiss, he took a deep breath. For the first time in several years, Xanxus did not feel the fluttering of flower petals in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and took in another, even deeper breath. Relief flooded through him.

Takeshi’s hand slid to the back of his head and he brought Xanxus in again. He pressed his forehead against Xanxus’s and murmured, “Thank you.”

“Shut up,” Xanxus growled back. 

Takeshi laughed and, instead of saying anything more, he kissed him again.


End file.
